The World We Live In
by CapitolCouture
Summary: AU- What if Peeta finally told Katniss how he felt? Takes place before the reaping. Peeta's POV. Oneshot. KatnissXPeeta. Holiday themed :)


**Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games and all of its characters.**

**A/N: Hello, All. This is a little oneshot that was running through my head during Christmastime, hence the holiday theme even though I took way too long to finally post it. **

**Some self-advertisement: please read my other fic The Baker's Son, the entire book from Peeta's POV! **

**Hope you enjoy, and please review :)**

My cheeks are flushed with warmth, and my breath carries it. It's the type of warmth that can make its way through your bones and stay there: light and airy and soft. When the little bakery is draped with dried-up evergreen boughs and every day is the scent of bread and cinnamon, I can forget everything.

My mother's face is brighter, too. She drops her fingers from her temples and the grimace on her mouth disappears. She smiles at my father once, at night when the dim lights of the town aren't dim for once. It's only during this season that the bakery is quiet, free from my mother's yells or the frantic clanging of pans on oven racks. Baking now is easy- embers and heat whisper to the frosty air outside and decide to keep their peace.

Katniss walks with her back hunched as usual, but I can tell that she feels it too. Some of the better-off families in the seam have draped tattered red and green cloths across their windowpanes, or made pretty paths through the snow with left over bits of coal. Katniss lingers by these hints of happiness, drinking them in until the cold forces her on her way. She'll find something to give to Prim and take her time to braid her hair tonight.

Gale Hawthorne is wearing a light-hearted scowl when I see him in school today. He brushes Katniss' shoulder gently as she passes him in the hall, and they stop to exchange smiles. He's older than us, so he's not in our classes, but he finds the time to play with her hair or call out a joke. I watch them silently, because I have no place in their exchanges. Who am I to protest holiday spirit?

My favorite part is decorating the sweets. There are little sugar snowflakes- feathery cookies made even more delicate by the dwindling batch of dough. There are little golden maple bells that are arduous in the making but _shine_ out of the display case. I paint the tiny cakes delicately with orbs of red and strands of silver. My hand is steady and I smile down at the pictures of Christmases I'll never have.

But what I do have, I love with all of my being.

On my walk home the snow whips heavily at my face. My thin coat can't shield me from District 12's harsh wind. I quicken my pace, striding towards the faint lights of the town ahead of me.

I see a figure, hurrying too, walking towards me, headed for the Seam. When I squint through the snow I make out their features- a beautiful girl with gray eyes and wispy brown hair.

I can't help it. The lights ahead and the trails of coal and the lingering smell of cinnamon on my hands are infectious. I call out to her.

"Katniss!"

She stops, now only a few feet from me, and stares.

"Excuse me?" She says, coming to stand in front of me.

I know how foolish it was to call out. "Ummm… I wanted to say, merry Christmas."

She looks wary. "Peeta Mellark?"

It's a question, as if she could barely remember my name.

"Yeah," I say, but my voice falters.

"Thank you," she says, her voice a little quiet. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

We stand for a few moments, shivering, until she speaks again.

"I remember you," she says, but avoids my eyes. "You gave me bread."

I nod. "I've always remembered you."

At this, her eyes flash up. There's something there. Raw, and almost… _wanting_. As if she's been lonely for a long time and I- or at least, a memory of me in the rain- consoled her.

As if she cherished that consolation and maybe, _maybe_ wants more.

Katniss straightens and stares directly into my eyes. I'm struck by the fierce beauty in that gray gaze.

"Thank you," she says. "I owe you a debt."

I almost laugh. "Of course you don't."

Katniss stands her ground. "No. I do. I saw just what you did for me- your mother…"

I shudder involuntarily. The harsh wind must be working into my bones.

"Don't worry about it."

I see Katniss shudder in the cold, and realize again the brutal flurry around us. I should let her get home. Besides, she probably doesn't even want to be talking to me.

"Just one more thing," I say, hesitantly. "There is one way you could repay that debt, if I can't convince you that it doesn't exist."

Katniss listens, waiting for my next words. I realize I share her anticipation, but for a different reason. I've been waiting to say this for years, ever since I fell in love. I've been waiting for my courage to catch up with my dreams.

"Katniss… I… I really like you," I stammer out. I refrain from saying the word '_love_', because I don't want to scare her. After all, it's surprising enough for me to 'really like' someone I'm not even supposed to know. But I do know her. I've watched her and studied her beautiful quirks instead of studying my textbooks.

Katniss just stands there, her brows knitted together. "That's… Um… I'm sorry," she says hastily, and moves to walk around me.

All of that waiting. What should I have expected?

"Wait! Katniss!" I call. She doesn't stop. "That debt!"

I hate to use this to keep her here in the street, but I can't think of any other way to hold onto her. Even if I don't believe in it, it's clear that Katniss does. It strikes a chord in her, and she pauses in the snow to look back at me. To assuage my guilt, I reason that making her 'repay me' will ease a burden of commitment she has imposed on herself.

I stride towards her, trying to be confident, and draw near. At first she shudders away- I can't blame her. But she stands in place as I lower my head towards hers- our foreheads nearly touching. Slowly, I place my lips on hers.

Kissing Katniss is like one thousand Christmases.

Everything is that cinnamon warmth, filling every space within me.

And Katniss kisses back.

It's a short kiss, but a happy eternity for me. When we pull away I see the distance in Katniss' eyes, the clues that tell me nothing will come of this.

"Debt paid?" Katniss asks, and a pang hits my heart. It was cruel to ask something so personal of her, and cruel to convince myself more than commitment could have driven her to agree.

"Debt paid," I respond. I grasp onto the wisps of quiet warmth in my heart. I won't forget this feeling.

Katniss gives me a sad, perfect little smile. "I really am sorry, Peeta."

With that, she turns away for good, leaving me standing in the storm.

I know that Katniss has been hardened by winters in the Seam and death and hunger. I know that she doesn't have faith in herself or in the world she lives in enough to truly love anyone. But in another universe, she might have loved me.

If we lived in a world where men could resist monstrosities through only their force of will and force of love, maybe we could be together. A world where nothing, not even the Capitol, could control the bounds of family. A world where there was no shortage of bread and no reapings and some beauty in the world- some place filled with flowers and sunlight, a meadow filled with song.

If someday these things existed, I feel that Katniss could love someone like me.

But we don't live in that world.

And, I know, today is not that day.

**A/N: Your super late Christmas present to me? A nice review! No giftwrapping required!**


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